


New Routines

by raijuthehyeju



Category: Orgulho e Paixão (TV)
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Facial Shaving, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 12:26:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16832596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raijuthehyeju/pseuds/raijuthehyeju
Summary: Having a new "roommate/neighbor" can always be a little intimidating at first- boundaries, getting to know one another, etc.So how do daily habits change when one is only used to army barracks, and the other living on his own for the first time? Much less, when both are certain of one thing: at least they're "neighbors" for life.





	New Routines

_(Art by Nero O'Reilly, commissioned by the author:<https://twitter.com/itsnero/status/1069441261487063040>)_

In the week and a half that Otávio Mastronelli and Luccino Pricelli had both moved in and settled into their new apartment(s), the last few days had been to develop patterns that were looking like delightfully domestic routines. Both would begin their mornings bright and early (Otávio usually waking at 5 to be at the barracks at 6, Luccino’s early riser habits coming in delightfully handy with a quiet knock on the other’s door), with the two usually returning to their homes around the same time of anywhere from 6-7:30. The Major had succeeded in giving him at least three fencing lessons thus far, each session lasting no more than 20 minutes, before dinner, showers, and eventual retiring to their respective rooms.

It was a slow process, learning how to live “together;” deciding exactly when to call it an evening, lingering glances and neither wanting to be the one to depart from the other, how Otávio would best help Luccino with dinner prep (or even if he _should_ help at all, but the mechanic hardly seemed to mind Otavio at least peeling vegetables). Otávio, still coming to terms with the idea of his own space, and Luccino; the first home he’d had outside his family’s house… It was all new. Incredibly new; overwhelmingly new. The two were working it out, they affirmed to each other, and pieces would eventually fall into place of how they wanted to live their best lives.

They had, after all, decided to be “neighbors” for a very long time.

So when Otávio had gotten off work early, it gave him some time to do laundry (both of their laundry, mind!), with Luccino coming home early as well to ask if “fencing lessons were available.” Otávio, abandoning his laundry sorting on the bed, went to a jubilant exercise of now both their favorite “sports,” and had ended the round with sweat-licked brows and gentle, loving glances and gentle, but firm kisses to the lips. Rightly fatigued now after both work and instruction, Otávio opted first for a bath as he ducked into the washroom; in the excitement, however, he had forgotten one important requirement for post-bath necessities.

Where was his towe--?

No. Nonono. Oh, hell.

The sigh Otávio gave could probably have been heard from the other side of the door.

Considering he had gotten a hair too excited to answer his ‘neighbor’s’ door, Otávio had realized he had forgotten to bring his freshly laundered (and folded!) towels in from off the bed and into the actual _washroom,_ wringing a hand at the back of his neck as he looked to the shut door. Maybe Luccino was already back in his own unit by this point? Maybe he could just dash real quick into his bedroom, grab a towel, and dry off in there?

And why, exactly, was he so nervous about this? It’s not like no one had ever seen him nude before, the barracks had _enough_ limited space between soldiers for those massive group showers, but…

He creaked the washroom door open to allow a sliver of vision through, Otávio’s eye scanning for any sign he could of Luccino-- aaaand yep there he was, right where post-fencing practice left him, still lounging on the couch and decompressing from a hard day’s work at the garage. With both of their fencing gear neatly folded over the sofa’s top and their foils stored for the evening, the mechanic was catching up on a borrowed almanac, it seemed, dressed down to his undershirt, pants, and socks, splaying out and relishing in the silence of the shared apartment space.

“Luccino-”

Great. Too quiet.

“...Luccino--”

That second call caught his attention, perking up from the book and following the faint calling of his name until his head lolled over the armrest of the couch. Luccino’s usual pleasant expression now squinted at the man through the slit in the door, where _exactly_ Otávio was calling from, almost looking around expectantly as his brow quirked and a playful smile skirted onto his lips.

“...Yeah?”  
“Oh come on- could you uh,” Otávio cleared his throat, “grab me a towel off my bed, please? I ah- forgot to put some in here--”  
“Say no more, Major,” Luccino crooned, marking his place in the almanac and setting it to the side as he rose up, “I’ll be right back.”  
“Thank you,” he called from the crack, leaning back from the door and…

What now?

Close the door? No, that’d be rude, he’d opened it already to ask Luccino and didn’t want to seem prudish. Well, maybe he _was_ already being prudish to some degree, he thought bitterly, maybe it just would’ve been better if-- oh there came his steps, they were getting closer, oh there he was giving little knocks on the door now.

Otávio’s hand met Luccino’s halfway to grab the towel as it snuck through the crack, half taking the towel and half taking Luccino’s hand, his gaze meeting his between the door with a small smile and nod.

“Thank you,” Otávio said in earnest, his face still flushed from the bath’s heat (and now the swelling that was fluttering in his chest). “I’ll be out in a bit, just- going to do an evening shave. Early morning and all.”

“Right, right.”

It took both men longer to part gazes than it might normally would, Otávio ducking back inside and Luccino’s eyes leaving the crack, but not closing the door.

Otávio would pause in drying off when he didn’t exactly hear Luccino walking away.

If fact, it just sounded like nothing.  
Like Luccino was just... standing there, right outside the door.  
“You know the ah, bulb burnt out in my bathroom again,” Luccino started, Otávio’s eye watching the door. “Think it might be something with the socket.”  
A grin wiggled under Otávio’s mustache as he saw it begin to creak open while Luccino spoke.  
“I was wondering if I ah, maybe…”

And the door now pushed open to its full capacity, slowly, the Major _explicitly_ watching Luccino’s eyes dart up and down his body as he was just finishing up drying off the back of his neck.

Otávio knew that look. That flushed, boyish, doofy, wonderfully cheeky look Luccino gave when he didn’t have quite the words to say, happy to stay in silence and let his own heart speak to him as Otávio gripped the towel’s two ends and pulled to fling it over his shoulder. The Major may have been a few inches taller than Luccino, but he couldn’t help but feel smaller against him terms of stock and size, a more flexible counter (which came in perfect for fencing) to Luccino’s raw build and strength. Otávio noticed the other man’s eyebrows linger a little longer than normal on his crotch, his cheeks skirting towards pink as he looked at Luccino to continue, yet quite content to drink the other man in on his own end.

In the army, sharing a washroom was as regular as sunrise.  
But _this_ was sharing a washroom with someone far, _far_ different than a room full of sweaty soldiers.  
_It’s ok._

Luccino finally picked up his conversation again. “Would you mind if I wash off in here tonight?”  
“Ah… I think that’s acceptable, yes.”

Otávio bit the inside of his cheek.  
“Make sure you get some more towels.”

Luccino gave a wink and a point. “Smart call.”

Otávio watched him leave the bathroom and, looking back in the mirror with a confident grin, straightened his shoulders and allowed himself to appear a little prouder while wrapping the towel around his waist.

That felt… good. Nice. A boost of pride seeped into Otávio, looking back at himself in the small washroom mirror with a more confident grin than typical rolling his shoulders and standing a bit straighter. He fetched his shaving supplies from the medicine cabinet, a hand checking the blade as Luccino gave a couple knocks before entering again. Luccino’s pajamas were bundled up under his arm with a spare towel, a couple washcloths, and his bar of soap in hand as he shut (and locked) the door behind him.

“No shaving for you tonight, then?” Otávio asked, offering him another grin as his hands unbuttoned the top of his undershirt.

“Nope- think I can go another day,” he sighed, pulling off the undershirt first and tossing it into the adjacent hamper. “I like doing it in the morning anyway. Helps me wake up.”

“I’ve noticed.”  
“Oh have you now?”  
“A little.”

Otávio could resist ogling Luccino’s bare chest by this point, thankfully (he’d never get over the sight of his mother’s ring necklace bouncing against those taut pecs), but when it came to Luccino stepping out of the second leg of his trousers, he couldn’t help but pause, watching the mechanic’s hands rim around the lines of his boxers as he pulled them down. Otávio’s cheeks began to flush again as a grin squirmed under his mustache and, as Luccino stood straight upright and tossed the clothes into the hamper, the mechanic was well aware that _he_ was now the one being ogled.

God save him, Luccino was beautiful.  
And thick.  
Otávio bit his lip again.

“Need help starting up the water?”  
“Nah, I think I’ve got it down.”

Otávio watched Luccino meander behind him to start the tub’s water, running his hand under the spout as Luccino tested the water’s heat grow from the complex’s pipes (thank god there was enough hot water left at this hour). With each deliberate stroke of his shaving cream brush, it grew harder for Otávio to not stare at the other man’s ass, the ass _unfairly_ staring at him while Luccino tested the water at both his and the bathtub’s side. Luccino must have felt his gaze, however, as he shifted against the leaning of the tub, Otávio quickly turning back to continue shaving with that satisfied smirk still on his face as if nothing had happened and there _wasn’t_ a beautiful ass belonging to a beautiful man staring at him.

So he focused back on the mirror.

And not ten seconds later, a strong arm began to spider its way into the mirror’s point of view, Otávio watching bemusedly as Luccino wrapped his arms around his waist and mush his chin into the Major’s shoulder as his skin crackled like smoldering embers.

And in this hug, there was another feeling that, definitely, Luccino’s shaft was pressing against and making contact with the towel around Otávio’s waist.

Luccino planted a peck on his bare shoulder. “Hi.”

“Hi.”  
“Tub’s gonna take a bit.”  
“You’re not in a rush, are you?”  
The mechanic shook his head, closing his eyes in a relaxed daze and taking in a small sniff. “...You smell nice.”  
“You do too.”  
“Ew, no- I probably smell like sweat and piston grease.”

“I think it’s nice, actually.” Otávio took in a small breath before holding his razor away and leaning to the side, stealing a kiss from the man still smushed against his shoulder.

“I must declare before I go on… you’re very handsome, Mr. Pricelli.”  
“I could say the same for you, Major.”  
“You _could?_ ”  
“I _could,_ yes.”  
“It’d make my night if you _did._ ”

“Something already tells me your night is made. But fine,” Luccino teased in a playful sigh as his hand rested on Otávio’s bare hip, oh Lord save him that felt so _electrifying_ , “you’re very handsome yourself, Major.”

“Ah, I try.”  
“And you succeed. In fact, if you’d like,” he hummed, one of Luccino’s hands moving from the hug to rubbing the base of Otávio’s head, “you had to reschedule your barber’s appointment, didn’t you? I could trim your neck’s hairline back here. I did it for Ernesto, usually…”

Otávio _had_ just said it’d be a while for his bath to fill.

So, trying to avoid melting into the soft, tender touches and brushes of his thumb where his hair bristled on ends, Otávio picked up the shaving cream brush, and offered both the pom _and_ the razor to Luccino.

“You give a convincing argument.”  
“What can I say,” Luccino crooned, taking the items from Otávio’s hands and looking quite proud of himself, “I’m an artist at heart.”

“With a wrench, undoubtedly,” Otávio boasted on his behalf as he stood still before the mirror and leaned both hands on the sink for Luccino’s ease of view, “I’ve had yet to see with _this_ .”  
“Oh come on, you don’t remember that it was _me_ who gave Mariana her first haircut?” the mechanic boasted, dabbing a bit of the pom’s cream onto Otávio neck. “Ernesto taught me how after Dad would get too frustrated to sit down and do it for all of us. Now: tapered? Or rounded?”

“Rounded, if that’s alright.”  
“Of course.”

The white noise of the running tub filled a peaceful silence shared between the two, Otávio quiet as he savored the touch of the razor cutting close to his skin and Luccino taking his sweet, delicate time with each application of the shaving cream and subsequent swipe. Even in the mere week and a half they had been “neighbors,” it had been a blissful ten days of quiet, of owning a space he’d never really had in either the orphanage or the army, almost unsettled at times by how quiet and individualistic it was… but the fencing lessons, Luccino’s proximity, reading, cooking- whatever it was they did together, that made it all the better and more worthwhile.

In the meantime, he felt Luccino explore his body- whether it be with sight or with touch. Even if Otávio did not look up into the mirror to see where the mechanic’s gaze went, he could feel the other man see the little scars, nicks here and there from years of army training, each ripple of his lean muscles and frame feeling as if under the world’s most adoring magnifying glass. At one point, Luccino’s strong hand gently cusped around the front of the Major’s neck, telling him gently to let his head relax, the brush of his thumb along the jawline causing a swallow that Luccino would have _most likely_ felt… and at the end, he felt wholly examined, yet as if Luccino never truly finished- like Otávio’s body were some grand vista, that no amount of touring would ever capture every single detail.

“There we are,” Luccino sighed, allowing his thumb to brush trace along his jawline as he took in his handiwork, “good as new, Major. Ah-ah-ah, wait- one more thing...”

And Luccino cupped the side of his neck before leaning in for a peck to the nape, beaming at Otávio in the reflection of the mirror before the Major broke his proud little smirk.

“ _Now_ you’re all done.~”

“You get into your bath,” he chuckled, hands snaking around to grab Luccino’s palm on his neck and kiss the back of it. “...Thank you.”

“Of course. Though I have to admit, I’m curious to see if _you_ match _that_ if I ever need a trim,” Luccino mused, setting the ringed necklace on the sink's edge and stepping into the warm bath.

“I’d give the most valiant attempt possible, but you know where my strengths are,” Otávio boasted as he held a hand to showcase his own face.  
“And it’s only the best mustache in the whole Valley, of course.”  
“Years of practice,” Otávio hummed as he turned his attention back to the mirror, “and patience- my facial hair wasn’t even solidly in till I was 17…”  
“Really!”  
“Everywhere else, immediately- I had awful patchiness on my face in my youth.”  
“Ernesto had that, too- he was jealous when all mine came in nice and even…”  
“Ah, that’s one thing your brother and I have in common, then.”  
“What was that?” Luccino asked from the tub as he washed his hair.  
“Nothing, nothing,” Otávio crooned with a finished razor stroke to the underside of his chin, “don’t you worry your handsome little head off about it.”  
“Who said I was worried.”

* * *

The smell of cinnamon wafting in from their landlord's bakery greeted Otávio in the bedroom’s quiet sunrise.

And his first thought was of the man in the other room, still most likely asleep.

Goodbyes in the evening were proving to be the toughest part of being “neighbors.” Neither really wanted to start it, yet neither really knew how to continue evenings together. Not now, at least. Ideas were there, but neither were quite ready to act on those ideas. Otávio wasn’t, at least. So glances goodbye and hushed “goodnight”’s were had as their middle door shut, the walk back to their respective rooms the longest mile to travel.

He knew he wanted to go… go where?  
In Luccino’s room? In his room? their rooms?  
Of course.  
What would they do in there?   
A lot of things. Of course they could- he wasn’t some ignorant, immature fool. Right?  
The memory of last night in his washroom last night suddenly resurfaced.  
God, he was so beautiful.  
A thought, thoughts skirted into his head. What would it be like to wake up next to him?  
His mind was beginning to race again.  
But what of?  
He had some ideas. Ideas of hands, of kisses, of gasps and hot breaths traded and exchanged.  
Beautiful ideas.  
Tempting, frustrating, captivating ideas.  
They were all was so much.  
His chest tightened and throat felt swollen.  
_Calm down._

It was ok. It was ok, they told each other time and time again- there was still a lot to learn. A lot to learn about each other, about themselves, what they liked, what each _other_ liked, what feelings were there and how to explore those feelings, those desires, those wants…

It was ok.  
This sort of thing took time.  
And they had all the time in the world.

Eleven days in living as “neighbors” now. Military (and orphanage) life had Otávio up with the sun, the Major already in full uniform (sans jacket) and pouring himself a mug of just-finished lemon tea as he stood in his small, humble kitchen, the few cabinets beginning to fill up beyond just the bare necessities. Ernesto (after finishing help with Luccino’s move-in) teased them about getting a “blank check” one day in the mail to fill up their pantries with whatever and however much food they wanted; partially to see his little brother and the Major helped where he could, but also so that their mother wouldn’t let either of the two “bachelors” have an earful about having “empty kitchens” and/or “not cooking enough.”

A knock.

Not from the front door or complex hallway door, but the inner wall. Quiet, gentle- not rapping. Otávio waited with a smirk. The two were still memorizing their new knocking signals, on recommendation they have one from their landladies.

He waited...

And two rapid knocks followed.

The Major immediately began to march to the door, that smirk growing wider and the teacup he had in hand now most certainly going to the “visitor” on the other side. Curtains would whip back and a door would open to see the beautiful, still-half-asleep face of Luccino, having looked like he just rolled out of bed and into his usual, scarf and cap-clad work clothes, his five o’clock shadow _far_ darker than it normally was.

“Morning, neighbor,” the Major greeted.

Luccino was the one to steal a kiss this time, Otávio’s grin wider than normal from the tickling sensation Luccino’s jawline gave him as he gave him the mug of tea.

“G’morning~.”  
“‘Think I can go another day,’ was it?”  
“Is it that bad?” Luccino asked, his speech slowly overtaken by a yawn and a tired rub to his face. He took a seat at Otávio’s dining table, the Major pouring his own cup back at the counter and setting to work on cleaning the strainer.

“Oh, I’d hardly call it ‘bad,’ per se,” Otávio humored. “Simply a little... rougher than normal.”

Luccino would probably duck away quicker this morning to spruce himself up then, he thought. Memories of last night’s tame, yet significant escapades wafted back- that new threshold of intimacy they both crossed, a new boundary being determined, broken, and connected over, Luccino’s gentle hands trimming the back of Otávios’ neck that, even now, prickled with the phantom sensation...

And then he had an idea.

“I, ah… no, nevermind.”  
Luccino gave a hum of recognition as he finished a sip of tea. “What was that?”

_Say it, coward._

“Ah… I could- give. You, one. A shave, I mean, if you’d like. If-- you’re alright with that- though if _you_ prefer doing it yourself that’s fine--”  
“You have time?”

Otávio turned the sink off and he couldn’t help his entire face lighting up, looking back over to his shoulder to see a very enthused, yet still-sleepy Luccino, those dark eyes sparkling even in the morning light.

He’d want it?  
_He said so.  
_It’s ok.

“I have until 7 to get there, I should be quite alright,” he assured. “If not, Captain Randolfo makes for a novelty alarm.”

“First you make tea, then give me a shave too?” Luccino yawned in pathetic protest, taking a long drink of the mug. “God Táta, make me feel lazy, why don’t you~”

“Returned service for my own trim last night,” Otávio offered with a playful point, trying to not smirk further at the nickname. “Into your washroom, then, get your razor and pom ready- I’ll be along after I clean the strainer.”  
“Yes sir,” he teased.

“Don’t you ‘yes sir’ me, I don’t have to hear that for at _least_ another hour,” Otávio crooned, wagging a finger to no one in particular as he listened to the other lumber through the door and towards his own washroom.

Pouring himself his own cup of tea and sipping it on his way into Luccino’s apartment, he found the man sitting with all the fixings prepared: his razor on the counter, the pom mixed thoroughly, and a washcloth with a hand towel on the sink’s rim. The Major took one last sip of his tea, setting it aside to cool as he steadied himself to kneel in front of Luccino. Hands that wrung themselves were now cracking joints before he held the man; Otávio’s hands were soft, deliberate, meticulous as he cusped the other man’s jawline, sizing him up and where to begin…

It made him think of their first fencing lesson.

His chest swelled when he saw that, by the look on Luccino’s face, he was probably thinking of the same thing.

“Now do _not_ hesitate to tell me if you feel a nick,” Otávio told him as he dabbed the other’s face with foam, brushing the underside of top lip first. “I’d hate to hurt that pretty face in any sort of way.”

“You’re trusted _implicitly,_ Major.”

A thumb brushed away a little extra cream from the corner of Luccino’s nose. “I’m glad.”

Around the lips was always the most difficult part. Luccino kept his eyes closed so Otávio could keep a steady hand, careful to not accidentally cut or shear too hard lest razor burn surface. In this silence, Otávio allowed himself to feel a little pride on his own behalf at how… good he actually _was_ at this? He enjoyed this, the Major was having _fun;_ it was something new to be so close, so delicate with someone he loved, rather than this simply being a chore for his own self and refining this talent for no one but himself. Finally, he finished the lips, giving a wink and claiming it as “perfection.” Luccino was unable to hold back an amused snort and shake his head.

“Don’t laugh--” Otávio teased, pointing as he stood up with a smirk, “don’t you dare laugh, that knocks the foam around--”

“You started it-” Luccino insisted.

“And _how_ did I? Simply saying the truth.”

The two went on like this as Otávio, now proceeding to move above and behind Luccino, cradled his head as he applied more foam and planned his course of action. Like clay, he molded Luccino’s head to rest, to crook, move forward or backward depending on the shear, each motion of the razor a deliberate, careful, and loving action on the Major’s part. The hair on his arms stood up whenever he felt a gentle exhale from Luccino’s nose, realizing that not only was this a new bonding experience, but also a new proximity broken- a new boundary hit with the horizon filled with possibilities.

He liked this.  
And it was ok.

“Did you ever do this for others?” Luccino asked as Otávio had paused to rinse off his razor.

“When I was younger, yes.”

“In the barracks?”  
“No. St. Mary’s.”

“Oh.” Luccino hummed as Otavio wiped the blade. “Did you… do it a lot there?”

“Sometimes,” he said quietly. “Mostly for those my junior before I left. They nicked themselves a lot by accident since we had to teach ourselves.” He rinsed the razor with a quick wipe. “Didn’t help that the blades we had weren’t that sharp, either.”

A pause hung in the air again. Only the sound of the razor’s shearing filled the space, Otávio relishing in their both’s peaceful silence.

“Otávio?”  
“Mmm.”  
“Tell me a good story from St. Marys.”

It took a lot in him to not pause his current stroke. Treading into those memories could be dangerous territory, but territory that would need to be crossed eventually. Although some instances were relatively bearable, Otávio knew deep down that these made him into a part of who he was- and like any good statue that has some marks of weathering, it was a part of his entire statue, for better or worse.

And he saw what Luccino was trying to do.

So he sighed and mused for a moment.

“There was a small pond, about a ten minute’s walk away from the grounds,” Otávio began, continuing his handiwork as he spoke. “I must have been shown it by the others when I was… what, 8? 9? It was a nice place to… retreat to. Sometimes I’d ponder over our assignments, try and draw, maybe read what I could. Groups would go out there every now and then, but it was too shallow to swim in and not much fun besides skipping stones. There weren’t many fish in the pond, but there were… always, there were these ducks, you see.”

“Ducks?” Luccino asked as Otávio finished a stroke.

“Yes, ducks- now don’t move your cheeks,” Otávio humored back as he resumed his work with a light pap to the other’s cheek. “Anywhere from three to a dozen. And it sounds silly, but they were beautiful- you know the kind, the ones with the blue in their wings? Maybe that’s how I got along so well with Papageno… Sometimes I’d try to make noises like they do to get them to come closer to me as I watched. Never would. Every now and then when the nuns wouldn’t see, I’d sneak some food, bread- whatever leftovers I could in my pocket, I’d bring it to them to sprinkle on the pond’s shore… and _that’s_ when they started to near me,” he mused. “I remember one spring, I was sad I hadn’t seen _one_ duck in a particularly long time. I knew it because it had a little nick on the end of its bill. After three days of not seeing it with my other favorites, I may have gotten a little weepy, would you believe. Hoped nothing had happened to it. I even went out exploring around the pond shore’s edge to search, scraped my knee because I tried to go over a palm frond that was too tall… and just when I’d settled that it was probably dead, I come back a week later to find that duck with an entire flock of ducklings swimming behind her. And of course, the instant I start dumping my crumbs near the water’s edge, her and all those ducklings followed. One of them tried to nip my trousers for more food. That spring, I _do_ remember I named each and every one, but for the life of me I couldn’t tell you what the names were.”

He pulled his hand back so Luccino could laugh a little. “I’m sure they were all great names.”  
“Oh _absolutely_ not- haven’t you heard the ridiculous things a child will name something?” Otávio protested with a smile of his own. “And I _do_ believe, Mr. Pricelli… that I am all done.”

He passed Luccino the small hand mirror to allow the man a full exam. Everything was nearly spotless, even, and smooth, Luccino legitimately impressed as he ran a hand over his cheek and jawline.

“My God, you really _are_ good at that,” Luccino mused, turning around in his seat to face and look up to Otávio. “Thank you."

“Years of practice,” he reminded with a proud smirk. And the Major couldn’t help himself; with a cheeky little wink, he leaned in to place a kiss to the top of Luccino’s head, the man below him all too eager to beam at the gesture as Otávio’s nose brushed against the other’s hair.

“I hate to leave, you know.”  
“I hate to see you go.”  
“Leave 10 or so minutes after me, ok?”

“Ok.” Luccino turned back to him with eyes full of adoration. “Have a good day, alright?”

“It’s off to an alright start.”  
“I love you.”  
“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> @raijuthehyeju on twitter || check out nero o'reilly's stuff at itsnero.com || thanks and god bless


End file.
